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<title>Sorgan Was A Backwater Skug Hole by doomtwinkie (shinysparks)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301144">Sorgan Was A Backwater Skug Hole</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/doomtwinkie'>doomtwinkie (shinysparks)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I normally write crack so please don’t hurt me for this, I’ve had waaaaay too much caffeine, This is how I cope with the apocalypse okay?, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, When things go to hell I take refuge in a galaxy far far away, backstory fun times, probably angsty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:21:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/doomtwinkie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Character backstories and random musings, set on a backwater skug hole of a planet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Perfect Blue Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymelady/gifts">Thymelady</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a gift fic for my bestie, Thymelady, who wanted character backstories (and also, for Cara to have met Leia at some point.) I still owe a chapter on Din Djarin, though. :)</p><p>Hope you like it! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She had known peace once.</p><p>Cara Dune sat at a table, a cup of glowing blue spotchka in her hand, and stared out at the perfect blue sky. Sorgan was a backwater skug hole, of course, but with it came a sense of calm, and stillness, and quiet. Peace was a luxury in the galaxy, and for Cara, it had felt like a whole lifetime had passed since she’d last experienced it.</p><p>She thought of home, of Alderaan. It was easy for her to remember its perfect blue sky, its idyllic mountains, its glittering cities of art and music and history. She could remember its people, the pacifists who, even in the full throes of the Clone Wars, had always discussed war as if it was something that only happened to other people, on other planets. But, it was much harder for her to recall living in a world where she wanted for nothing. She’d forgotten what it was like to have enough food, enough water, enough comfort; to put her time and effort into something as frivolous as music instead of into her own survival; or even what it was like to be able to exist without having a weapon or three within reach. She had forgotten what it was like to feel safe and untouchable under that perfect blue sky.</p><p>She felt like she had died when the Empire’s shadow first fell upon her homeworld; and a new Carasynthia Dune had risen from its darkness.</p><p>Alderaan’s glorious peace had ebbed away after the Empire had come; slowly, at first, and then swift. She remembered the worried, hushed tones in the court of Queen Breha, where she had first served as security. She remembered the long, mysterious absences of the queen’s consort and their planet’s beloved senator. But most of all, she remembered the royal couple’s young daughter, a girl who always seemed to have a sort of charged air about her - the girl who had a presence more like a war general than a princess of pacifists.</p><p>Cara had been young and naïve then, the product of a people who had never dared to imagine things like intrigue, or rebellion. She never thought to question why the princess had instructed her to fly some of her people’s greatest ships to remote worlds; to leave the ships open and unprotected, and to simply walk away. She never thought to question why the princess had been the one to first press a blaster into her hands, along with a cautionary “just in case.”</p><p>She shook her head, and took a long drink of her spotchka. Perhaps, she’d been a Rebel longer than she thought.</p><p>But, if helping the royal family funnel Alderaanian ships to the Rebellion had not made Cara a rebel, The Disaster had. Everyone she had ever known and loved, those glittering cities, those idyllic mountains, and that perfect blue sky had all been ended in one decisive blow from the Empire and their new super-weapon. And, if turning her home into a rocky debris field had not been horrifying enough, the Empire continued with their genocide, hunting down Alderaanian survivors.</p><p>Cara refused to be prey.</p><p>The blaster her princess once given her had become a lot easier to hold after that. Officially joining the Rebel Alliance had been even easier. But what became the simplest thing in the galaxy for her, though, was fighting back. It became second nature. It was showing the damned Imps, no matter their age or rank or importance, the same level of mercy they’d once showed Alderaan...</p><p>...Which was to say, none at all.</p><p>Cara stared up at Sorgan’s perfect blue sky - one so perfect, in fact, that if she stared at it long enough, she could pretend she was home. If she closed her eyes and focused her mind hard enough, she could almost even believe it. She took a deep breath of the cool air, trying to live in that moment, trying desperately to exist in that fantasy. But a fantasy is all it ever was.</p><p>Reality always seeped back in, and Cara’s mind replayed all the death and destruction that had been wrought by her once-pacifist hands. She thought about how her life had come full circle, how she had started off as a security escort to Alderaan’s royal family, only to become one again for the Republic’s senators after the war’s end. She thought about how she’d rejected it, only to become a mercenary... only to stay hunted. It was what she was used to. It was her life since The Disaster.</p><p>Cara drained her cup.</p><p>Sorgan was a backwater skug hole with a perfect blue sky. It was safety and it was peace... at least for a time. But that's all it was, and all it would ever be. An Alderaanian could never truly go home again, after all. The Empire had saw to that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. She Was Done With War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was done with war.</p>
<p>At least, that’s what Omera had told herself all those years ago, when she’d first stepped foot off of the transport. Sorgan was a backwater skug hole - about as Outer Rim as Outer Rim could get - but it was far beyond the reach of the Empire and the Rebellion. It was peaceful, and quiet, and simple; three things the young, widowed mother deeply desired.</p>
<p>Life had not been easy for her. She was but a child when the Clone Wars first came to her homeworld of Onderon, a world that had sided with the Separatists. Destruction had followed, clones and droids fighting, bombing, killing each other and everything around them. Omera had first picked up a weapon out of necessity, to ensure her own survival. It was that necessity and survival that had aided her skills, trained her to shoot and defend herself and what was hers.</p>
<p>And then, the Empire came. And the Rebellion followed. And Omera’s skills earned herself a place in a Rebel cell, fighting for the Republic her people had once turned against. It was a strange universe, she’d once thought; a strange path, that her life had taken. But, it hadn’t been all bad. That path had lead her from world to world, to friends, to hope; and eventually, to love, and a daughter, and a family...</p>
<p>...at least until the Battle of Scarif.</p>
<p>Her husband had been a hero, the rebels had told her when she was shaking, crying, holding their newborn daughter in her arms. By sacrificing his life, he might have saved the entire galaxy, they’d told her, awarding her the medals he’d earned with his death. The Rebellion held reverence for the ill-fated members of Rogue One, but it brought Omera no peace. When the Death Star arrived over Yavin-4, she knew her life was over. She knew it was time to leave.</p>
<p>Sorgan was a backwater skug hole, but it was home. She’d sold off the weapons that had once ensured her survival for currency - enough to get her and her daughter started - and she’d placed her husbands medals in a box, never to be opened again. It was a new life - a simple, peaceful life. She was done with war.</p>
<p>And then, the Klatoonians had attacked her village, and the Mandalorian had come. And once again, Omera held a weapon in her hands, ready once more, to survive, and defend what was hers...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I took some major liberties with this, but A., it’s a gift and B., gift recipient is fond of Rogue One (as am I,) so it felt right to tie it in somehow. :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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